The Exposure

Chapter Seven

           The next afternoon you hurriedly gather information and references in the library to make up for time lost daydreaming in the classroom. As you glance over the notes you've taken so far for your assignment on poisonous herbs, a dark thought crosses your mind. Snape hates poorly-done homework. Just last week he scolded Felix Wimbledon for missing 3 points on a quiz. And a good scolding he gave him, too...

           A devious grin spreads across your face as you put away the books you've collected from the shelves, pulling out some parchment and beginning your essay.

           Wednesday finally comes around and you and your classmates have all turned in your assignments, dropping them on your professor's desk. You've waited all day for your detention, sitting as patiently as you can at your worktable. The other students begin gathering their books and make for the common room to gossip and play games before dinner. You wait for Professor Snape to bring up your detention, but he doesn't say anything. You wonder if you ought to remind him, but over-thinker that you are, you sit frozen in your seat, unsure of what to do. It's all quiet in the classroom now, save for the scratching sound of Snape's quill undoubtedly marking low grades and remarks for the Poisonous Herbs assignment, given the scowl on his face.

           "Is there something...I can help you with, Miss Y/n?" your professor asks, not looking up from his grading. You startle, having been lost in the lulling movement of his hand against the parchment. "Well–it's just. I'm sorry, don't I have detention, Professor?" Snape looks up from his work wearing an incredulous expression. "You know I believe that is the first time in all my years of teaching that a student has reminded me of an assigned detention." He looks sideways as if trying to recall, musing to himself. His glance suddenly jerks back to your doe-eyed gaze and he quips, "That anxious to stay in the dungeon with me again, are you?" He smirks, and your heart leaps. "Well, come with me then."

           He rises from his desk, a flick of his wand tidying up the haphazardly scattered parchment into stacks of graded and ungraded assignments. You wonder if he's graded yours yet. The ungraded stack floats through the air, making its way to his arms and you both make your way to his office. You follow behind him, the swish of his robes a calming but mystical sight amongst the otherwise cheery groups of students and teachers you pass on the way. You lock eyes with Angel talking to Reggie, her Harvest Ball date, and she returns your gaze with one of alarm. "Again?" she mouths, watching you go to detention for the second time this month. You nod dejectedly, trying to hide your excitement for the evening. She gives you a pitied look and shouts after you, "I'll save you some pudding at dinner!"

           Snape leads you down into the depths of the castle, and you approach his office. He holds open the door to allow you to enter, his eyes squinting at you with a somewhat suspicious look. The door slams shut behind you and his robes swish around him as he drops the stack of papers on his desk, seating himself behind it. You take in the gloomy room, feeling somehow safe even amidst the jars of toad entrails and rat brains. You shiver in the cold office, now wishing you'd brought a sweater. You take in his form and note that there's something alluring about the way he leans back in his chair, comfortably in his element. He points with his wand to the shelf on his right. "You will be labeling these ingredients." "Yes, sir." You hurry to begin and you think you catch a shadow of a smile appear on his face for less than a blink before he returns his attention to his grading.

           Boomslang Skins, you write on a strip of sticky parchment, placing it carefully on the jar in your hand. You shudder at the bottles of pickled pigs eyes that seem to be watching you from the top shelf. The sound of Professor's writing lures you into a coziness and you feel at ease. That is, until Snape abruptly rises from his chair, marching quickly over to you with a piece of parchment in his hand. He leans threateningly over you, forcing you to back against the shelf, the glass vials and bottles lightly rattling. He raises the parchment to your eye, showing you your own writing. "What. Is. This?" he hisses at you, his dark eyes suddenly alight with ire.

           "M–my essay...sir?" He lowers the parchment, stepping even closer to you and leaving less that a handswidth between his chest and your face that looks up at him, eyes wide with astonishment. "Your...essay," he leers, those black eyes growing more intense by the second. "This is lazy work. Do. Not. Disappoint me...again." You feel a sudden warmth between your thighs as your body shudders in response to his threat, your hips fighting to buckle, your self-control barely holding them back. His gaze drops momentarily to your middle.

           Did he see that? You wonder to yourself, his eyes fluttering back up to meet yours. God, I want him to–"You will spend the rest of this detention rewriting your essay. It is obvious you have not been paying attention in class, so I will teach you...personally."

           "Come," his deep voice reverberates in your chest.

           You follow him out of the dungeon, your body still reeling from the heated exchange. He leads you to the Greenhouse, whispering an incantation to open the door. "We've had issues with ingredients being stolen in the past," he explains, irritation still lacing his voice. You smell the flora, the earth, and the night air seeping in. He gestures to the rows of herbs, "Identify one poisonous herb in this room. The one you pick may be used as the example given in your re-written essay."

           You walk around the Greenhouse, looking at all the different species of plants and other herbs, taking in as much as you can. Despite what you've led Snape to believe, you actually really enjoy learning. You've been a bit distracted lately, but you're quite good in school.

           But good girls don't get punished.

           You lean in closely to observe a Moly plant, resting your hand on the workbench, its bright petals swaying and its stems black as ink. Suddenly, you feel a sharp pain in your arm, Snape's booming voice and a flash of fire from his wand, and your vision darkens. You feel the hard pavement of the greenhouse smack against your head, then you're floating. Your body feels weightless and you think, I'm either flying or dying. You flutter your eyes open and see your professor's dark locks flashing in contrast against his pale neck, his concerned eyes flashing down at you. You realize he's carrying you. His strides are long and hurried but you feel safe and warm.

           You struggle to keep your eyes open but drift into a dreamless sleep. You awake early the next morning in the hospital wing with a bandage wrapped tightly around your right arm. "You gave us quite the scare, lass." Madam Pomfrey fusses and fixes your pillow, immediately ordering you, "Drink this," and handing you a glass of a green-colored, slimy potion. You swallow, trying to force the nasty substance down your throat. "I'll let Professor Snape know you've woken. He was a might worried that you wouldn't make it, stayed up all night brewin' the anti-venom." He was worried, your heart warms at the thought.

           "Venemous Tentacula," Snape answers the question on your face as he enters the room. "You really are a clumsy girl," he quips with a smirk, but there's a playfulness in his voice, void of its usual harshness. You realize you've been staring into his eyes for a bit too long when he breaks the silence, "Well, I suppose you've a topic for your essay now." He turns to leave, "Thank you, Professor!" you quickly say. He pauses without turning to you and nods curtly. He leaves the room, his dark robes billowing around him.